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I stare at him. “I’m not the best of company, but if you’d like to hang out, I’ll make us some food…”
He smiles and sits back in the chair.
“What are the other two-thirds of BDL doing tonight?”
Brady furrows his brow. “BDL?”
I shrug and laugh.
“I have no idea. I came straight here.”
“How does that work with you guys? Is there like a date night schedule so you each get time together, or do you always spend time as a trio?”
He laughs. “We started with a schedule, and lots of discussions about that, until we each figured out what we needed, and what we all needed was to be together as a trio. Now the couple time happens mostly organically. On nights like tonight, say, or when Devyn gets sick of us and hangs out with the girls. My travel schedule creates time, and they choose to come with me whenever one or both of them want to. It just works. I know that’s hard for most people to fathom.”
“Well, who cares about most people? I can see it, especially when you are all together. I can see it when I’m with Levi and when I hear the way he talks about you both. It’s awesome. I know you guys have to work at it, but it’s great and I’m really happy for all of you.”
“Thank you.”
“Speaking of Levi, have you talked to Mom?”
Brady nods. “I did. It seems she will get to fulfill all her grandma fantasies with Xander.”
I wasn’t aware she had grandma fantasies, but after Mom put the lake house on the market, she headed to Vancouver for a little downtime and to explore the area. Levi hooked her up with his sister, Keltie and her wife Anna, to get together for lunch and now she’s got a realtor, is staying with them and playing doting grandmother to their adopted son, Xander.
“That kid is going to be spoiled rotten.”
Chapter twenty-nine
Oh thank God, I exhale and I feel an enormous weight sliding off my shoulders as I pull into the parking deck and see Carter’s Bronco parked next to my bike.
I’d left him with little to go on, but I could hardly explain it to myself, much less him. But now… at least he is still here.
The apartment looks just as it had when I left. In fact, it looks better. The kitchen is spotless. There is no evidence that anyone has been here at all during the past couple of days. His car is the only evidence I have that he is still here. It’s quiet and dark. I glance at my watch. 10:30. My heart sinks when I walk into the bedroom and my bed is empty, and even more, it looks untouched. He hadn’t stayed in here. It’s the punctuation mark on the distance I created by leaving, and this does not bode well for his mood. But he had stayed. I’ll cling to that fact.
Walking down the hall I find the guest room door slightly ajar. Carter’s back is to the door, a leg kicked out from under the covers, and that damned glorious ass taunting me. I shut the door with a soft click, then open it just a few inches and walk back to my room. My room. Well, that fucking sucks. There isn’t supposed to be my room and his room. We aren’t roommates. I don’t want to be roommates. But I guess this is what I deserve, isn’t it?
At least he stayed. He could have left. He could have gone to Brady’s. He could have gone back to the hotel. Hell, he could have rented an apartment and moved right in. But he stayed here.
I flop back onto my bed and stare at the ceiling.
He stayed here. He is here now. He is right down the hall. Isn’t part of the reason I went to Minnesota because I wasted too much of my life not allowing myself to feel? Now I feel too much. But there is never too much with Carter. There is never enough with Carter.
He hasn’t moved. His back is still to the door and that ass is still begging for my attention. It isn’t going to get that kind of attention, not tonight. Tonight, I need something I’m not used to needing. I just need to feel him next to me. I need to wrap my body around his and feel him. I’ve never been the affectionate one under any circumstance. Never the hugger. Never the hand holder. Sure as hell never a cuddler. It was all part of my self-imposed punishment plan.
I slip into the bed behind him and mold my body to his. The warmth of his skin instantly fills me up. I stroke my fingers down his arm, feeling the muscles of his biceps and forearms along the way before I slide my fingers through his. He has yet to make a move or a sound. Does he really sleep this heavily? I let my body fully sink into the mattress and pull the thick comforter up to cover us both. His scent fills my nostrils. My lips fall to his neck, and I plant a small kiss against his skin before slipping my fingers through his again. Without a sound, he grips my hand in his like a vice, elbows me in the gut and then tucks my arm under his. Another wave of relief rolls over me and I just about burst into tears when he meets my body with his, pushing back against me, removing any remaining gap.
“How was St. Paul?”
“Cold.”
Did he answer my question? I have no idea.
All I know is that his body molded against mine was everything to me last night. It was the only answer I’d needed since he’d left me alone in the apartment. I don’t think I slept at all while he was gone. Every noise in the apartment filled me with hope that he was home and then with disappointment that he wasn’t.
Home. Ha. He had asked me to make this my home as well. I jumped at that chance too quickly. I didn’t think it through. Neither did he, apparently, and now he is regretting it. He feels stuck and doesn’t know how to get out. So, he did what we’re both masters at—he ran.
But when I heard the noise last night, I knew I wasn’t imagining it. He was home. And when he checked on me and left the room, I knew it was over. I thought of getting up and tearing down the hallway and calling him every name in the book. Of throwing a million punches at that beautiful face. How dare he make me believe? Believe in love, believe in him, believe in us.
